


But These Lights Don't Make a Carnival

by the_genderman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: A very brief slice of life ficlet set between Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War. The media circus is getting to Steve. He's slipping back into self-doubt, and Sam doesn't like seeing him like this.





	But These Lights Don't Make a Carnival

“Sometimes I really hate people,” Steve said, shutting the door and slouching out of his mid-weight spring jacket.

“Uh-oh,” Sam said, looking up at Steve’s arrival. “Don’t let the press hear Captain America saying something like that.”

“Ok, how about ‘sometimes people can be extremely “challenging”?’” Steve amended, making air quotes around ‘challenging.’ “I’m going to go change into something more comfortable than this press-conference suit.”

Sam watched as Steve disappeared up the stairs. He turned back to his laptop, refreshed the comments on the press conference video again, read another half-dozen, and closed the window. That was more than enough negativity for the day. More than enough for the week, the month, almost an entire year now. Ever since Sokovia and seeing how much of the rest of the world viewed the Avengers, how his own country was beginning to view them, Steve had been backsliding. Sam saw how the public opinion quietly ate away at him. 

Oh, the Avengers still had Tony Stark’s PR team, even if they didn’t have Iron Man anymore, but that almost seemed to make it worse. Steve could put on his public persona with the best of them, but when he came home at night, he was mentally, if not physically, exhausted. It was one thing to do their job as Avengers, dealing with the likes of HYDRA, ex-HYDRA offshoots, or whatever other upstart groups who thought they were the next in line for terrorism and/or world domination. But between the battles? In the relative calm? Even the Avengers had to work to stay relevant, or so the PR team said. Steve was Captain America, and he was a symbol to the nation. So he put on his mask (figuratively, sometimes literally), spoke some soothing words into a reporter’s recorder, stood up on a stage looking majestic, or sat down with the talk show host-of-the-week and answered invasive personal questions while trying to look unconcerned.

And it worked—after each of Steve’s little speeches, public outings, and private events, the Avengers showed a brief uptick in popularity and positive opinion—so the PR team kept doing it. The Captain America ‘brand’ was a guaranteed sell; all the glitz and glamor started by Tony that Steve had to pretend to like. Sam and the other Avengers had pushed the PR team to broaden their scope a little, bring the rest of the team in, maybe prevent an oversaturation of Captain America, but no. Ok, so they agreed to do a few more group-events with the whole team rather than just Captain America solo outings, but you don’t make too many changes to a winning formula, they said. And so it continued.

Steve descended the stairs heavily, not bothering to try to quiet his footsteps. He reached the couch and flopped down heavily next to Sam, sighing loudly. He had changed into a long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants, beginning to go a little holey around the waistband. 

“So, how bad is it?” Steve asked, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“It’s not great,” Sam said, shutting his laptop and setting it on the side table. Honesty was the best policy, right? “It’s not as bad as it could be, but it’s not great.”

“Is the ‘Captain America Effect’ still working?” Steve asked.

“It’s a little too early to see,” Sam said judiciously. Honesty was the best policy… to a point.

“Meaning no, it’s not,” Steve sighed. “I knew it would stop working eventually. I just want to help people, but I’m being expected to play the circus ringmaster, distracting the audience from the sleight-of-hand men. I’ll never actually get away from the lights and flashbulbs side of things, will I?” he asked rhetorically.

“Steve, you are helping people,” Sam said, hoping his words would help bring Steve back down again. “We’re going through a bad stretch, I know, but you are helping. I know it’s not what you want, and it’s not what the rest of us want, either, but for now, we have to work with what we’ve got. It’s a lot to deal with, but once we actually catch up with Rumlow and put him away, we’ll be able to relax a bit. Rumlow and his trail of destruction are the biggest thorn in our side right now keeping the public opinion down

“Yeah, but right now? This is a circus,” Steve groused. “No, not even a circus. Circuses are too organized. This is one of those unlicensed travelling carnivals where half the games are rigged and the other half have prizes that are so cheap that they fall apart as soon as you get them home.”

“Well, anything I can do to help you take your mind off of the carnival side of things?” Sam asked.

“Have you had any luck on the Bucky front?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no,” Sam said, shaking his head. We’ve been so busy tracking Rumlow these past couple months that I haven’t had the time to dedicate to looking for Barnes, sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I understand,” Steve said. His words were reassuring, but his tone was tired (even though he was trying to hide it). “There’s a lot going on right now and I’m stuck on the carnival circuit, leaving the rest of you to cover for me. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Not your fault. They at least ought to be able to give you a break once in a while,” Sam said, pulling one leg up on the couch to sit sideways, tucking his foot over the opposite thigh. “Alright, turn your back to me, Steve. I know a little something to help you relax.”

Steve shifted his position, back to Sam, legs crossed. He bent his head forward and sighed as Sam’s fingers began to knead the tension out of his shoulders. “How did I get so lucky that you actually decided to settle down with a mess like myself?” he mumbled as Sam kept massaging.

“Well, you’re not _always_ a mess,” Sam teased lightly. “And when you are, you’re _my_ mess, because you put up with _me_ at my messiest.”

“Aren’t we a pair?” Steve teased back. 

“I dunno, I think we’re pretty good together,” Sam said simply.

Steve turned his head to smile warmly at Sam. Sam leaned in to give Steve a quick kiss, then asked him to face forward again before he got a crick in his neck. Steve complied. Sam’s thumbs made little circles at the base of Steve’s neck.

“Oh, that feels good,” Steve practically moaned. “Are you sure you’re not enhanced? ‘Cause your hands are magical. 

“Nope, these are all-natural,” Sam laughed.

“Well, they’re still magical. I’ll make this up to you later, I promise,” Steve said.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Is there much of a plot? Not really. I was trying for a plot, but I got about 500 words in and realized this was either going to be really short, or really long, and I've already got a longfic in process at the moment (not including any of my many older WIPs). It ended up really short.
> 
> Kind of also working off of Natasha's line in Civil War "We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."
> 
> Title misheard from the Republic Tigers song "Strangers to the Eyes of a Child-Man" because my hearing is questionable. Apparently the real line is "But these _lives_ don't make a carnival." I think 'lights' sounds better, personally.


End file.
